Tod has some relationship hang-ups after his last break up. Things are moving crazy fast with Carla, and before he knows it, he’s off the streets and living like a king. What will Carla do when she finally finds out why he ran away? And will Tod be able to adjust to a life of luxury.

Featuring a shopping spree any romcom would be envious of, Tod and Carla continue their whirlwind romance.

Carla is bad at keeping her hands to herself on the bus. One day she manages to ass grab her way into a date with a cute gutter punk. Join this twitchy scientist as she navigates the difficulties of the dating world and hot boy who just needs a shower.

Based in Steel City, this unconventional tale of love at first grope is sure to amuse.

I went through this phase where I would stay up all nice watching IFC (sleeping has never been a skill of mine). I saw a lot of weird shit. The film, Naked Lunch, still stood out for it’s strangeness. It was my first introduction to William S. Burroughs, an author I loved in my late teen/early twenties. Not that I don’t love him now, I just have so many other things to read.

I wonder if I would have picked him up if I’d known he’d killed his wife playing William Tell? It wasn’t premeditated murder or anything–they were both drunk when it was decided (I’m not sure by whom) that it would be a good idea for William to shoot a gin and tonic off Joan’s head. He hit her face. She died, and he fled all possibility of punishment.

Finding this out colored my perception of him, but before that I had all those lovely moments with his stories, with his steam powered dildo, his talking asshole, and all his other skits. My stronger impression was of William S. Burroughs, the author, not William S. Burroughs, the drunken murderer.

Now, with social media, you can’t even make a poor attempt at satire without having to offer an apology. (Cached version of the original post here.)

Did Hugh Howey lose some business with that post? Yeah, yeah he did. Am I sorry that this is my first introduction to his writing, and not his book, which is currently in my TBR pile? Yes, honestly. It’s just, it was bad. Comedy, and specifically satire, is not easy. I’d rather my first experience with him be good.

Howey doesn’t strike me as much of an asshole though. Life will continue for him.

What about those authors whose idea of marketing is declaring things like: Suck my dick! Buy my book! The authors who spam social networking sites with their ugliness, like a small child that misbehaves to get attention. There was a time when their bad behavior was limited to a small subset of those around them, those who are directly affected by their behavior.

Now, they can go on Reddit, Twitter, GoodReads, WordPress, and spread their shit like a conscientious farmer. Will there be anymore great asshole authors, or will they all crash and burn before their careers start? Should we trust on these rare geniuses overwhelming misanthropy to keep them away from social media long enough for them to make their debut? Or will their overbearing egos cause them to seek and audience, and then crash and burn before they make their pen their opus?

While the changes wrought by technology aren’t necessarily bad, they’re still changes. I find myself writing shorter and shorter paragraphs, largely because they seem to read better on my Kindle. New words and tropes filter into our stories. We communicate with our readers and each other in different ways. It will be interesting to see if there are any new Bukowskis among this generations literary greats, or if assholes get the cold shoulder in the world of social media. I think some will survive. People will tolerate a fair amount, provided you’re able to entertain them.

Geordi’s parents didn’t do him any favors when they named him after their favorite Star Trek character, or when they sent him to a private school full of rich white kids. Always awkward and overwhelmed by crowds, he stuck to himself. College was when he was supposed to grow up and get over being a teenager, but instead he got better at avoiding people. One day, he challenges himself to compete in a cosplay competition at an anime convention. Geordi’s blown away when he wins third place and even makes a few friends. He thought it was the beginning of a change, and he didn’t know how right he was.

He dragged me before him and his blue eyes glowed with fury. He seized each of my limbs and held me spread-eagle in the water.

I closed my eyes, expecting him to tear through my body. The rough tips of his tentacle touched my face. The hard suckers opened my lips. His hands smoothed over the muscles of my arms, and something hard nudged my thigh.

He kissed me, his icy lips lightly brushing over mine. A firmer kiss on the corner of my mouth and then a pitter patter of kisses to my throat. He placed a lusty kiss there, taking a moment to worry my flesh with his broad, flat teeth.

I moaned a little and, to my shame, ground on his thigh. It turned me on, his brute strength, his power over me.

He embraced me and rubbed his cheek against my face, his skin cool and sleek against mine. My cock jumped. I was his to command, his to ravage. I trembled and turned my mouth to him, joining our lips.

He loosened his grip, and for a moment I clung to him. Remembering myself, I had been kidnapped off the streets and surgically altered to breathe underwater, I shot to the surface. The sensuous way his appendages unwound from my limbs—the tips of the suckers trailing on my flesh—made me want to go back into the water, but my stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

I’m using up those Amazon free days! I have three smut stories for Kindle that are FREE this weekend. Spanking! Pee! Surgical robots! That’s like the whole cycle of life right there. Download and take a look!

On Easter, I didn’t call my sister. Not because I don’t like my sister, but because I loathe phones. I will think of any excuse to not call people. In my mind, she spent all day at church or visiting her friend for dinner. Part of it is the fact that I’m going deaf, and with the lousy cell connection we get at our house, phone conversations can be a little embarrassing. I’m either going, “What? What?” or I’m having a hard time following along with what’s said. I blame it on the rock and roll concerts and my love of eating ibuprofen (om nom nom!).